The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives me from winter torpor
Kicking and screaming into spring.
The thing is, winter’s cosy,
Toes snuggled into fluffy socks,
Duvets piled high, hot chocolate
And hermit habits.
Winter plumps my pillow
and murmurs “Just another hour.
It’s cold out there.”
Spring jumps on my bed,
Has no intention of shutting up,
Fills my head with bird song
And absurd plans.
Winter tells bedtime stories;
Spring scorns bedtime,
Plays hopscotch at midnight,
Fights sleep till dawn.
I fake a yawn, but Spring’s not buying it.
The green fuse fizzes –
Get ready for fireworks.
Notes: The prompt was to steal a line from someone else’s poem. I’m sure Dylan wouldn’t mind lending a line to a girl from the valleys…